And after thunder and lightning.
The air is clean and the sky is bright. A bit muggy, but I can live with that.
We have had wonderful lightning storms the last two nights. Each time we could hear them coming from afar, and watched the clouds build up as they rolled in. Friday nights storm reached its local peak between 0430 and 0530 (Saturday morning). At first the flashes were just that, but as the storm grew closer, the rumbles started: first just a far-off grumble, than more insistent.
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| Looking Down Valley |
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The village is located at about 3,200 feet elevation (975m) in the glaciated Railroad Creek valley. There are several peaks between 6,000 and 9,000 feet (2,200m - 2,700m) within just 2 to 4 miles (3-6km), with several hanging valleys or basins between the peaks and ridges. So the sound gets bounced around a lot. You know how it goes: you start counting the seconds between flash and boom - five seconds is about a mile. Once the strikes start hitting less three seconds away, the sound is enough to vibrate buildings and sometimes the ground too (resonant frequencies, anyone?). At some point, the strikes are close enough together in time and in space that it is hard to tell which flash goes with which rumble, and echoes overlay each other.
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| At The Soundless Dawn |
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Saturday evening (last night) we could see the storm coming again. Our
son Aidan played some of the Bach Suites for Uaccompanied Cello at
dinner in the Hotel Dining Hall for the Villagers and mine remediation
workers. I didn't know that he was going to do that... and missed it. He
and some of the other college-age folk decided to sleep under the stars
(clouds) until they felt rain on their faces. I think that happened about midnight or so... By half past midnight the rumbles were overlaying each other, and the rain was falling hard. The intensity of the storm tripped a fire alarm (we keep them at a very highly sensitive level here), and so all the villagers that respond to those events got to enjoy the storm at a more personal and communal level at once. The night time kitchen staff had coffee and pastries ready, and tea and toast were available at the table in the middle too.
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| Coffee, Pastry, and Light on Chalet Eleven |
This morning the air is clean, and smells really, really good. The dust has been knocked down pretty emphatically, and the the ground squirrels are out grazing the lawns. A western tanager (or two) has followed me around this morning, it seems. It landed on the porch rail just an arms length away and gave me the eye for 15 or 20 seconds. Another(or the same?) just landed in the native raspberries (blackcaps) that grow out of the rock wall just outside Chalet Fourteens dining room, where I am writing this. I tried to take a picture at full zoom, but shooting through glass and the screen - well, that seems kind of optimistic, doesn't it. The pastry is a sweet dough spiral with chopped walnuts, dried cranberries, raisins, and just enough cinnamon and cream cheese frosting to balance each other.
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| Copper Peak & Thin Linear Cloud |
Today is kind of a day off for me. I do have some stuff I want to get done before I feel good about heading out of the village for the small adventures that are waiting out there. I want to go fishing in some of the pools upstream which formed when trees fell into the creek during the storms of 2004 and 2006. I was going to file the barbs off the hooks, but cannot find my little diamond hook sharpening tool. No matter - I will take the fly rod anyway, and maybe use the tiniest flies and nymphs in my pocket box - #14s or so.
The playlist this morning includes:
- Fishing Blues - Taj Mahal
- Gone Fishing - Louis Armstrong and Bing Crosby
- Fishermans Blues - The Waterboys
And for good measure: the ending credits from The Cider House Rules (Rachel Portman). Kutumbarara (Spreading) (The Kronos Quartet, Pieces of Africa); Robin Trower (Bridge of Sighs); Dvoraks 'American' Quartet; Concierto de Aranjuez (The Modern Jazz Quartet); and some John Lee Hooker to keep it real.
So - I am off to look for little fishes, and wish you joy of the same.
